Edification
by JenniferHecateMacBeth
Summary: Spock meets his match in a young cadet named Nyota Uhura. Nothing here belongs to me.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He had posed the same challenge to the students in each and every Xenolinguistics seminar for eight semesters running, and thus far only one cadet had been able, or even dared try, to accept his offer. Logically, any student considering specializing in language study should have been preparing years in advance of admission to the Academy. He could not understand why Earth's educational system had not sought to emulate the more rigorous methods employed by other civilizations, preferring instead to indulge in primitive forms of recreation in lieu of adequate intellectual development. If he were to ascribe a human emotion to the idle discomfiture he felt, he might call it irritation. As it was, he normally experienced a dull wave of impatience with his new crop of students and the resolve to examine his motivations for persisting in this post semester after semester when he would clearly continue to be disappointed. It was illogical to feel disappointment when he could anticipate the lack of preparation, interest, and aptitude of his students in this most important of diplomatic and tactical subjects, but he would endeavor to impart at least a healthy respect for the subject in the 94.2% of students who would change their specialization by the end of this course.

He was aware of the reasons for having been assigned at least two or three sections of Xenolinguistics or Advanced Phonology each term, despite his specializations in advanced battle simulation programming and interdimensional physics: he was as close as the Academy had to an expert in linguistics, the study having been largely marginalized after the adoption of Standard on Earth and in the near systems of the Federation; he had the dubious distinction of having traveled widely among the more important linguistic groups with his father, in his capacity as Ambassador to a number of civilizations throughout his career; and highest in his estimation of the logical reasons for his continued efforts, the students who successfully completed his course and went on to become Xenolinguists were among the most proficient and efficient cadets in Starfleet. He might wax nostalgic that this would be his final semester as an instructor here and his last opportunity to inspire, or at least terrify, the incoming class, but it was not in his nature to take pleasure in fond remembrances. He would have to meditate deeply on this human tendency to enjoy watching the dullest cadets squirm. Cadet Uhura had frequently enjoined him to practice empathizing with these ill-prepared younglings in her capacity as his teaching assistant and, he gathered from overheard discussions in the faculty building, handler. However, he saw no evidence that his treatment was actually detrimental to their development as officers and, if anything, it very likely prepared them for the moments in which they would have to think on their feet, despite gaps in their knowledge as to how to approach a novel situation. At least, that was his conclusion. Cadet Uhura found this humorous, in her fascinatingly human way, and concurred that they might at least need a little shaking up. "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger" she would cite, from her cache of human proverbs. "Challenge your preconceptions, or they will challenge you," he typically responded. These obtuse children must learn about other cultures and languages, or have their naiveté endanger themselves and their crews.

He understood the reasons for which he was assigned a teaching assistant. Ostensibly, the faculty was worried after his second semester that he would be unable to develop the kind of relationship with the students that would be necessary to keep them from dropping his class, which happened with alarming frequency. He was told, in terms that brooked no argument, that he would be taking on a cadet to assist him with his linguistics courses the following term. He could choose any cadet he found to be competent, but therein lay the problem. He had yet to come across anyone he would consider even remotely "competent." Nearing the beginning of his third semester, he was analyzing the benefits and drawbacks of choosing either Cadet Palau or Cadet Kazazumi as his assistant for the coming term, finding himself without a logical conclusion. Neither was particularly strong in the polite third register of Romulan and both butchered his own dialect of Vulcan despite hours of individual tutoring in syntax and pronunciation. Neither had been inclined to participate in his little "challenge" at the beginning of the course, causing him to seriously question their commitment to scholarship. However, he had just discovered an intriguing new candidate for the post. While she had only been in his lecture hall for a total of 22.4 minutes, she had already presented herself as a candidate for his exemption examination.

The premise was simple: submit yourself to examination in 8 of the 27 requisite languages for full competency as a Federation Xenolinguistic and Communications Officer and, if successful, receive full credit and the possibility of doing independent research in lieu of taking the introductory course. He calculated that fully two-thirds of students in an equivalent cohort of Vulcan candidates, if he were to offer the possibility, would have promptly dispensed with his class. Thus far, his statistical total among humans was null. That is, until the beginning of his third term.

He wasn't one to waste any time in class with the sort of administrative items that so many other professors covered on the first day. His duty was the edification of these ill-used young minds, not reading aloud the description of the course that they should already have received and examined prior to the beginning of the term. He settled for a protracted description of the importance of linguistics in inter-species diplomacy in his native tongue followed by an exercise: a written summary of his discourse in Standard. He found that by analyzing the quality of the students' comprehension and assigning them to study groups according to proficiency early on, he could more effectively differentiate his instruction and focus on those who showed more promise. Following this assignment, he presented his exemption challenge again, for the third time, momentarily pausing to await the response that was unlikely to come. This time, however, a strong, clear voice replied from the center of the hall in perfect Vulcan. "I submit myself to the test, _Osavensu_." She had chosen not only to reply in the same dialect as he had used to begin the class, but had also included the honorific specific to his position as a scholar. Impressive, but more remained to be seen. He instructed her to meet him in his office at 0800 hours the following morning and proceeded to give notes on the phonemic distinctions between colloquial and formal Orion, not bothering to ask any direct questions. There was far more than enough time to plumb the depths of their ignorance on Wednesday.

"Honored teacherSpock, may I speak with you for a moment?" The voice belonged to the same cadet who had earlier accepted his challenge.

"I find that to be acceptable, Cadet. . ." he replied in Standard, hesitating, waiting for her to supply her name.

"Uhura, sir," she replied, "First-year cadet, intended specializations in linguistics and sub-space communications engineering. I don't want to take up too much of your time, but I had a few questions about your lecture this morning, and wanted to clear them up before our meeting tomorrow."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Cadet Uhura. I have office hours now, if you would like to accompany me to the faculty building. Would that be satisfactory?"

"Quite satisfactory, provided that I arrive in time for my next lecture. I have to say, I was pleased to have been assigned to your linguistics course, Lieutenant Spock. I have read some of your papers on the development of early Romulo-Vulcan dialects and am thrilled to be able to work with you in person." Spock was thoroughly impressed that she had seamlessly dropped into Andorian and presumed, quite correctly, that Uhura was seeking to dispense with his little examination as quickly as possible.

"I find your interest in the subject refreshing, as few of my students have been aware that there were any linguistic similarities between the two at all. I wonder, how did you find my lecture today on Orion?" he continued in common Orion.

"Thank you, sir." She quickly launched into an analysis of his lecture, comparing the speech patterns of her roommate, an Orion, with those he had brought up and proposing a more in-depth study of the topic as an independent project for the semester. As he listened to her rapid-fire Orion, it occurred to him that he might have found his teaching assistant. Upon reaching his office, he abruptly began asking her questions about her prior study of linguistics in the low-caste dialect of Cardassian, to which she replied confidently, with a glitter in her dark eyes, in Traditional Golic Vulcan. "Are you a student of Vulcan literature, Cadet?" he inquired, this time seeking something more obscure, in the archaic dialect of Highland Golic. "It is among my interests, especially the writings of Surak, though that should hardly surprise you given my study of Traditional Golic. I was hoping that I might have an opportunity to talk with you more about the Kir'Shara. I haven't often had the opportunity to discuss philosophy, much less the teachings of Surak, with an actual Vulcan."

"I would find that most agreeable, Cadet Uhura. Now, with respect to our examination tomorrow, I believe that you have most admirably provided me with enough evidence that you have at least seven of the requisite Federation languages under competent control. I have observed enough to make a recommendation to the faculty committee: I have the intention of offering you a position as my teaching assistant for the semester, if you should be interested. It will require a great deal of effort on your part, but I believe that the experience and research opportunities will be well worth your time." He was rewarded with a broad smile, of the kind that he normally found so disconcerting and only rarely bestowed upon himself, given the coolness others perceived in his lack of emotional display.

"I accept, sir. Thank you for placing your confidence in me! When shall I report to begin?" She smoothed her red uniform and tossed her long ponytail behind her shoulder, straightening her posture and obviously trying to convey her readiness for the assignment. Spock was becoming more adept at interpreting students' body language, even if he had no desire to try to emulate it. While he found his mother's excessive displays of enthusiasm somewhat embarrassing as a child, he had come to understand more fully how emotions were translated into movement for the human species. It was an informal study, but one that he devoted much time to given the constant bombardment of human interaction he experienced on the campus.

"0800 hours tomorrow would be acceptable, as I no longer have an examination to administer." He supposed that this might pass as mild humor and was not incorrect. She smiled again and thanked him before taking leave, and he felt a mild twinge of something when she exited the room. He pondered it for a moment, probing the feeling, and decided that it must be his realization that he might have found at least one human with the kind of intellectual drive that he had found severely lacking since leaving Vulcan, even among his colleagues at the Academy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Uhura had hoped that she could eventually impress one of her Xenolinguistics professors enough to be taken on as an assistant, but she was a little shocked that she would manage to do it in her first semester at the Academy. Further, she was embarrassed that she had shown so much emotion in front of a superior and, more horrifically, a Vulcan. He must find her cultural sensitivity more lacking than her linguistic capabilities. She had always excelled at languages, and at a very young age she had been chosen for an accelerated language program at Nairobi University. It had been very hard for her parents, as she spent most of her childhood in the laboratory school or on interplanetary exchange programs, but she learned early on that her drive to achieve was incontrollable. Some of the students at school labeled her obsessive, but she was that much closer to achieving her dream of traveling the galaxy. It was not by chance that her parents chose to name her in Swahili for the shining heavenly bodies which, in Standard, were called stars. While Nyota Uhura was unwilling to place much confidence in superstition, her mother had consulted a local wise woman before her birth, who felt that the child's destiny lay among the stars.

She was delighted that she had not only been given a position as a teaching assistant, but that she would be working with the preeminent professor of semiotics and inguistics at the Academy. Lieutenant Spock's reputation preceded him and his writings were beginning to form the basis for much of what was being studied in universities throughout the galaxy. She found it difficult to believe that he was so young, but then dismissed that thought quickly. Some would say the same about her, but she was determined to be judged for her intellect above all else. Uhura knew that she had some obstacles to overcome, however; she had learned early on through the clumsy efforts of her male classmates and the not-so-innocent demeanor of other men that she was desirable, and thus unlikely to be an intellectual rival. By turning to her studies and focusing on each step toward her goals, she had earned a reputation as an ice queen. It wasn't that she didn't feel the need for companionship, but that could wait. One of the benefits of achieving as much as possible while young, she felt, was the ability to make those sorts of choices later with the benefit of experience and shared interests, and not through irrational hormones and happenstance. She sometimes envied her roommate, Gaila, who managed to balance a healthy sex life with a heavy course load in power systems engineering, but the entanglements of love and relationships appeared to be messy and time-consuming, not to mention downright depressing when infatuation turned to boredom. Gaila tired quickly of her various lovers, and Nyota felt uncomfortable passing them in the mess hall as they forlornly stabbed at their cereal the morning after a rejection. Rarely did a fruitful night of research lead her to have regrets in the morning, and she preferred it that way.

On this particular morning, she had gotten up early to go to the physical training center for heavy-grav maneuver exercises and work off her nervous energy. She found that physical activity helped focus her thoughts, which often whirled in her head with an abandon that her exterior rarely betrayed. With a strong cup of coffee and a protein bar under her belt, she made her way to Lieutenant Spock's office with several minutes to spare. She anticipated waiting for him to arrive, but he was already at work, wrapping up the grading for their first Xenolinguistics assignment. She paused and tapped lightly on the jamb of the open door.

"Come." She entered his office for the second time, taking the time to assess her surroundings more thoroughly than she had the previous day. She remarked immediately that he had brought in a second desk, which was situated by the window facing the quadrangle.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Spock. Cadet Uhura reporting for duty, sir." She assumed that the formalities would be appropriate for the moment. It would be prudent to allow him to set the tone for their interaction, rather than presume a level of familiarity that she clearly had overstepped the day before in her excitement. "I apologize for my inappropriately emotional reaction to our conversation yesterday, sir. Please excuse my error – I think the excitement of the first day of classes clouded my judgment. I will not allow it to happen again, sir."

"At ease, Cadet. If you are to spend much of the next year in my office, I would prefer that you not expend your mental energy on worrying about offending me through your normal human behaviors. I have long since learned to overlook them." His past observations had led him to believe that human students worked more efficiently when not preoccupied with Vulcan standards of behavior that they were unlikely to be able to imitate. She observed his lifted eyebrow and interpreted it as betraying a hint of humor and feigned exasperation with human emotional displays. "Your first assignment, Cadet Uhura, is to assign study groups to the class based on their performance on the translation assignment I gave yesterday. I require 10 groups, sorted by ability. You will be responsible for overseeing the four weakest groups and I the strongest six this semester. Any questions?"

"No, sir." She quickly retrieved her PADD and stowed her bag under the desk that she, rightly, assumed to be hers. It was kind of him to locate her near the window, showing that he did, indeed, have a certain degree of understanding about human behavior. She glanced around at the sparse office, remarking the lack of personal effects or clutter. She felt calmed by the room, ready to get to work and prove that he had not misplaced his trust in her. As she sorted through the translations, she came to realize the level of incompetence of her classmates and was rather dismayed at the lack of effort the others had put forth before coming to the Academy.

"I wonder, how do you find the process of analyzing the translations, Cadet Uhura?" She started at the sound of his voice, as she had almost forgotten that she was not the only person in the room.

"I hesitate to pass judgement on them based on only one assignment, but I must say that I am astonished at how unprepared they seem to be in basic Vulcan lexicon and grammar. It is almost depressing."

"Ah, depressing. Perhaps that is the emotion I was trying to ascribe to the process this morning. Have you enough information to divide them into groups?"

"Aye, sir. I have already uploaded scheduling information to the system for each group. It looks as if I have my first meeting with the lowest group tomorrow, immediately after class."

"Good. Cadet Uhura, I have a somewhat unusual favor to ask of you this week. I would like to know how the students "feel" about my class."

"Feel, sir?"

"It has been suggested to me," again, he twitched one eyebrow up, belying his mild amusement at the situation, "that I might be more empathetic with my students and endeavor to make them feel more 'comfortable' in my classes. Logically, one of your duties is to assist me to develop that capacity."

"Ah, I will do my best to gather the required information, sir. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I myself have a bit of a reputation for being somewhat unfeeling among my classmates."

"Really? That likely bodes well for our continued association, and I have, at least, fulfilled the letter of the faculty suggestion as far as I am concerned. I simply require that you obtain as much 'feedback' as your position allows from the students. Call it a research project, if you will."

"My pleasure. If you no longer require my assistance this morning, I have my advanced communications lecture in 15 minutes and should probably leave for the lecture hall shortly."

"Indeed. You are dismissed, Cadet Uhura." She gathered her things and turned smartly on her heel, leaving the stark office almost imperceptibly different than she had found it. Spock noticed the lingering scent of lavender in the air and chided himself for regretting, even for a millisecond, that she had gone. Even Vulcans do need companionship, he conceded, though he had rarely had the opportunity to develop friendships among his people, given his unusual heritage. Perhaps having an assistant would be beneficial to his state of mind. He would meditate on this further that evening.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Her laughter rang out in the quiet faculty building, so much so that he felt compelled to close the door to his office. "Nyota, I fail to see the humor in this situation. Would you care to explain?"

"I fail to see how even you wouldn't take pleasure in the irony of James Kirk finding himself before a student jury consisting entirely of females, Spock. Either the computer that randomly chooses the disciplinary board is rigged, or there's a greater power out there that has a sense of humor."

"It would be highly illogical, and therefore improbable, that an all-powerful being would take any interest in the failings of Cadet Kirk. I can think of several very talented programmers, however, that might be pleased to see this scenario accomplished. It would be against the code, specifically section 5, subsection k, but could be done with some effort on the part of a gifted student. If I did not possess a thorough understanding of your moral character, Nyota, I would be suspicious that you had taken part in this little 'prank.'"

"I'm pleased that you think so highly of me. Of course, I couldn't bring myself to break the code of conduct for such a frivolous purpose, but it does not mean I can't take great pleasure in someone else's creativity!"

The exuberance shining in her eyes was almost contagious. After nearly two years of working with Nyota, Spock had come to find her enthusiasm almost necessary to his peace of mind. He one day might even call her _t'hy'la_, a sister of his soul. Human beings tended to call any number of people "friend," but in his experience this surface emotional connection held none of the intellectual beauty and coherent logic of two minds joined as one. It was not appropriate now, given his position as her instructor, but soon the semester would end and she would no longer be his student. She was currently assisting him with his advanced phonology seminar, while still maintaining a punishing schedule of coursework in preparation for her thesis, though she rarely showed the stress she must be feeling. It had been a year since she had approached him about learning the techniques of _kohl-tor_, or as humans called it, meditation. Nyota's mind, like most humans', was a whirling confusion of thoughts and emotions that sometimes defied her ability to control. Her confession of this weakness was the beginning of a closer bond between them, as he helped her to learn to control and suppress her anxiety. He was, logically, the best choice of mentor for her on the path to _wh'ltri_ as he knew well the difficulties and rewards inherent in restraining human emotions. Perhaps one day she would be ready to move beyond the simplest techniques and he would introduce her to deeper forms of spiritual meditation.

Thankfully, she understood his Vulcan nature well enough to refrain from the distasteful practice of touching that so many humans engaged in with those with whom they shared more informal relationships. His mother held the distinction of being the only one whose touch he could tolerate, and he did not want to give Nyota the impression that he did not enjoy her company. He had quickly found himself looking forward to office hours, when they would work tirelessly on whatever research or grading presented itself, and afterwards, when he would accompany her to the Academy commons to discuss the teachings of the Kir'Shara, Dhamma-vinaya, or tlhIngan tIgh: SuvwI' DevmeH paq. She would imbibe the stimulant known as coffee, while he consumed a no-less enjoyable cup of _theris_, which she found to be excellent but likely to cause drowsiness in the human body. Their conversations frequently bubbled up into his consciousness when he lay in his quarters at night, waiting for sleep to claim him.

"When it is written, "Listen to the voice of your blood," in The Klingon Way, I find it to be in direct parallel with the concept of logic. Each society has a different view of what is logical, based on millennia of experimentation, trial and error. What may be logical for a Vulcan is not necessarily so for a race so dependent on emotion to guide its actions."

Nyota had a knack for mistaking empathy for comprehension, and he could not hesitate to point out, "And is it logical for a human is to equivocate when it is clear that the brute destruction of one's enemy through purely instinctual reflex remains morally unacceptable in both my culture and yours, despite your peoples' tendency to cling to these primitive emotions? Simply because you share with them this persistence, does not mean that you can necessarily empathize with their hatred."

"I'm not being evasive, Spock. The logical decision is not a fact, it is a point of view based on available information. Just because your available information does not include emotional input, does not mean that it is incorrect to add it to the calculus."

He returned his focus to the moment at hand. Nyota's throaty laugh at Kirk's predicament still hung in the air as she turned back to the pile of assignments she had yet to grade. "And this approval of someone's willful disrespect for the code of conduct, does it stem from your theory of relativistic logic?"

She turned back to face him, features tensing visibly. He was provoking her, intentionally, and she knew it. "There is a proverb in pre-Standard English that says, 'rules are meant to be broken.' While I hardly agree with the sentiment, a set of rules is meant to guide actions when lack of sufficient information makes a logical decision impossible. Those who follow the rules are able to avoid many unforeseeable consequences but may also come to an incorrect conclusion." She stood and stepped past him, coming uncomfortably close. "I believe that it is against the code of conduct for an instructor to meet with a student behind closed doors, Lieutenant Spock. Permission to open the door, sir?

"Point taken, Cadet Uhura. I apologize if I have offended you." His stomach fleetingly reminded him that he did, in all truth, want the door to remain closed. She relaxed her facial muscles and crossed back to her desk, smiling almost imperceptibly. She had won this particular battle of wills.

"Nyota, Spock, when it's just you and me. There is nothing to forgive. What would friendship be without a few disagreements?"

She had reminded him, again, of his hopes for their continued relationship beyond the end of the examination period. "Nyota, may I ask what I hope is not an inappropriate question?"

"Yes, Spock?" While she could not be sure, she thought she saw a flash of fear in his eyes. This was not something she had seen before, in the several thousand hours they had spent in one another's company.

"Do you understand the concept of friendship in my culture? Of being _t'hylara_? I believe that my request may go against letter, if not the spirit, of the code of conduct, but," he paused, a green tinge rising to the tips of his ears, "I would be honored to call you _t'hy'la._" She tipped her head softly to the side, taking in his question.

After a moment, which seemed like an eternity, she replied, "_Trau'es_, I would be proud to call you _t'hy'la_, Spock." She stretched out her hand to him, in perfect Vulcan manner, to accept the touch of his fingers. He felt a rush of emotion, which he could only barely control as he returned the gesture and made contact between their index and middle fingers. Could she feel his failure to maintain mental composure? If so, it did not show. He could feel the thrumming of her human heart and the warm pleasure that she was experiencing at his display of affection. "Spock, you have long been my friend and I am not unaware of the importance of this gesture in your culture. May I share a gesture equally important in my own?" He nodded and she leaned in to gently kiss him on the cheek, as his mother had often done when he was a child. She drew back slowly and another incandescent smile bloomed on her face. "You have done me a great honor, and I fully endorse your breaking of the code of conduct, section 2, sub-section c, fraternizing between teaching faculty and students under their tutelage."

He could not control the twitch of a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth and remained there long after she had left. He had a friend, the kind who understood that they would remain so for as long as they should exist.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Nyota had been on leave for nearly two weeks, and Spock experienced the void in his life intensely. He cleared his mind of all thoughts save one: her warm, brown eyes. He had not realized the degree to which he could feel her absence, and his only consolation was to meditate in the hours when he was not otherwise occupied with work. He did not hear the chime of the door as she requested entry, but he had given her free access to his quarters before her departure. Vaguely, he sensed her slip into the _loshirak_ position beside him on the floor. He unconsciously reached out to touch her hand and was surprised when he felt her mind touch his. She knew that he was thinking of her, and she was pleased. He slowly returned his breathing to a wakeful pattern and opened his eyes, turning to face her. "I was not anticipating your return until Saturday, Nyota. Is something wrong?"

"Not anymore, Spock," she replied, grasping his other hand in hers and completing the circle of their arms. "I felt you calling. I couldn't stay away."

"I cannot explain why I am unable to control my emotions, Nyota. I am sorry I allowed myself to affect your plans. I fear I may have made a mistake in becoming so close to you. . ."

"If you apologize to me, I will be forced to logically conclude that you regret our friendship, Spock, and it wasn't because of your needs that I returned, it was because of mine. She leaned in and softly pressed her cool lips against his cheek, and then, to his surprise, to his own lips, hungrily, seeking a response. His mind whirled, emotions welling up and overwhelming him. He pulled away abruptly.

"Nyota, I need a moment, to compose myself. Please. . ."

She squeezed his hands lightly in understanding and gently broke the connection, rising to procure two cups of _theris_ from the replicator in his tiny galley. He joined her soon after, appearing marginally more in control of himself. "I don't understand my reaction to you, Nyota. It is inappropriate and I am sorry. I have broken your trust."

"My trust? I am the one who has gone beyond the acceptable boundaries of our friendship, Spock. You must think I have no shame, to touch you in such a way. I have no excuse, other than my damned human emotions."

He took a moment to reflect on her words. "Boundaries are meant to be negotiated," was his eventual reply, in tandem with a slightly raised eyebrow and the ghost of a smile on his lips. Nyota returned the smile and pushed a mug towards him.

"Cheers, Spock."

"To what are we toasting, Nyota?"

"To your newfound ability to use humor to resolve inter-species cultural incongruities."

"I would also like to propose a toast, if I may. To my friend, and her constant assertions that the logical course of action is not always the correct one."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Nothing's mine, thanks for all the happy reviews!! I'll do my best to keep updating quickly.**

"Gaila, maybe you've never experienced this, but what do you do when you're attracted to someone but you both know that it could never work? I mean, I have a career and that's always been enough for me. And he's technically engaged, though I know they don't love each other. And what are the chances that we'd even be posted to the same ship?"

"Uhura, you think about things too much. When I like a guy, and he almost always returns the sentiment, I take him out for a drink, discreetly put a hand down his pants, and . . . problem solved. It's amazing how quickly all those what-if's turn into your-place-or-mine.'

"And somehow it's always "mine" - which, I repeat for the zillionth time, I don't usually appreciate."

Gaila stuck her tongue out at Uhura before asking, "Just what would it take to melt the "ice queen?" Obviously it's not a hot body, because I've given you more than enough chances. Any time I try to fix you up these days, the date's over before the second drink, and _not_ because the guys aren't interested."

"Of course, they're nice to look at, but I can't stand the way they put their dirty thoughts out there for everyone to see! If I want to be groped in public, I can easily join the ancient wrestling club. There's no mystery, nothing to discover. I tell you what, Gaila, intelligence is a lot hotter than you give it credit for."

"So what about Kirk? That's long since over between us, and he's had his eye on you from the moment he saw you. Come on, you know he's brilliant."

"So was Tarrat Kalit, and he exterminated a couple of planets, Gaila! Not that Kirk seems like the mass-murdering type, but he's so obvious! And he pisses me off, to be quite honest. I can't stand a man who can't see past my exterior, or posterior for that matter."

"You do have a very nice posterior, I have to agree." She giggled as Nyota threw a pillow at her head. She turned more serious. "You're a knock out, Uhura, and I can't understand why you don't take advantage of it! I'd be jealous if I had it in me. You know, we've gotten off topic. Who's the mystery man in this whole woe-is-me scenerio? After like six months of you moping around, you'd think you'd tell at least your rooommate! Come on. If I were going to share your secrets with the world, the whole Academy would know that you. . . wait, I can't even think of any of your dirty little secrets. I don't think you trust me!"

"Gaila, you know it's not that. I'm just not that interesting, apparently. If you're into secrets, though, and can swear on Orion that you won't breathe a word of it to anybody. . . "

"Cross my heart." She traced a neat X over her sternum and fixed a saintly expression on her green face.

"He's not a cadet, Gaila. If you even squeak about it outside this room, you could ruin both our careers."

"Hey, wait! Could it be that you're with the one guy in this entire city who I don't have a chance at seducing? Oh this is absolutely perfect. The ice queen and the Vulcan. You know what? You've been spending too many hours in his office. Minus the pointy ears, I could almost imagine that you were one of those cold bastards."

"How do you know that's who I'm talking about?"

"Your scent changed the moment I said the word Vulcan, Uhura. Be careful around those Deltans - they'll know what's up with you two from fifty meters away."

"I'm not one for breaking the rules, Gaila, but I can't stay away from him."

"Here's the real question, and I don't mean to be blunt, but are you sure it's not all in your head? Those Vulcans are like stone, they don't feel! And I bet they'd be about as exciting as a warm cucumber between the sheets. Or do they do it standing up? I've never seen a Vulcan with so much as a wrinkle in his uniform."

"Gaila!" Nyota gasped. The Orion had absolutely no shame.

"I'm just saying. But maybe if you have no basis for comparison, then you won't know what you're missing."

"Gaila, just cut the crap and tell me what you think I should do. Truthfully."

She twisted one copper curl thoughtfully around her finger and bit her lip, clearly trying to be diplomatic with what she would say next. "My first inclination would be to tell you to give him the "let's just be friends" speech. Then I'd fix you up with one of those adorable engineering geeks and you could forget all about your stone man." At the look on Uhura's face, Gaila continued, "But that's clearly not going to happen. How deep in are you with him?"

"We're like two magnets. We get can get just so close, before he switches poles and the force pushes us away from each other."

"Nice simile, my dear. Maybe you just need a good degaussing, if you know what I mean," Gaila said with a wink. "But seriously, if you like that image, maybe you should think about turning your back on him for a bit. You might just draw him to you until he's stuck for good."

"You think so?"

"Give it a try. Worst that happens is you have to apologize for being distant to your very unusual friend, to which he will probably reply that it is illogical to apologize. Am I right?"

"Sounds logical to me."

"Good. We start tonight. Let's go get a drink at the Fleet Bar."

For once, Uhura took her up on the offer gladly.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Uhura purposefully strode into the bar and ordered a Cardassian Sunrise from the bartender.

"This one's on me, and not becasue I expect to get anything out of it," a bemused James Kirk offered behind her. She felt his breath on her shoulder and gave him a punishing glare before nodding curtly and accepting her drink.

"Somehow I knew you'd be here. How did you manage to find me so quickly?"

"It's not hard, when the entire room turns its head for a beautiful woman. And I have to say, you're looking particularly stunning tonight, Andrea."

"Wrong again, _Jimmy_."

"I like the way you say that. Just wait, I'll hit upon it eventually."

"Unlikely, but feel free to keep guessing. It won't be from me that you'll get it."

"Alas, a certain blonde goddess is checking me out on the other end of the bar. I bid you farewell for the evening, my Aisha! No?" He sighed dramatically as he drifted toward the newest object of his affection.

"So, not a chance for Kirk?" Gaila followed his retreating form thoughtfully with her eyes. "Maybe I'll bring him home tonight, just for old time's sake."

"Let's not have that discussion again. Bartender?"

"Woah, ice queen. Two drinks in fifteen minutes? You're heading down a slippery slope. Not that I won't get you home, but take it easy!"

"I'm out to have a little fun tonight, Gaila. When's the last time you saw me relax?"

"Frankly, never. Okay. . . just don't blame me when you wake up tomorrow."

"What a good roommate you are."

"I know. Hey, Uhura - there's a table. Let's wait for the gentlemen to come to us." The two girls slipped into the booth and started dissecting the interactions of the progressively more inebriated cadets that wound past their table. Uhura's eyes followed one couple, who only seemed to have eyes for one another. His arm was wrapped securely around her waist while she planted quick kisses on his exposed collar bone. They swayed to the beat, their bodies pressed tightly together, moving as one.

"Get a room!" Gaila cheerfully recommended, knocking back another shot of Argelian fire. The alcohol barely affected Gaila, while Uhura felt the warm, comforting tingle of her melting sobriety and resolved not to see Spock for at least the entire week. She was off duty as his assistant for the duration of the break and wouldn't be required in his office until next Wednesday.

"Ah, love. Who needs it?" Uhura emptied her glass and signaled for another.

"That's the spirit, my little protegee. Before long we'll have you singing on the bar and leaving men panting in your wake."

"Don't expect too much, Gaila. Be content with me losing the contents of my stomach in the bushes behind the dormitory."

"I'll settle for that. Now, drink up and let's go dance. You _can_ dance, right?

"That's the one social skill I'm actually proficient in, Gaila. Lead away."

In the farthest reaches of her mind, Uhura could feel a soft question, where was she, but she brushed it away and drowned it in hypnotic music and forgetfulness.

* * *

"Ah, Gaila!" she groaned. "What the hell was I up to last night?"

"Hmmmm. . .?" came the questioning, sleepy mumble from the other side of the room.

"Driving every man in the place wild, Samantha." It was Jim Kirk.

Horrified, she opened one aching eye and was met with the barely clothed cadet's reclining form on the other bed. "What. . ." she trailed off.

"You should be glad to see me, your knight in shining armor! If I hadn't been there, you likely would be laying in the middle of the quadrangle right now. Who do you think carried you home last night? This is the gratitude I get! At least you could give me your name."

"Thank you for the chivalry, but I think I need to excuse myself."

She stumbled to the bathroom and into the shower, where she spent the next half hour steaming away the last of her mental fog. Thankfully she must have quit drinking once they hit the dance floor. As the water washed away the smell of alcohol and sweat, she determined that she should rehydrate herself properly and go for a long run. What had she been thinking? She swallowed a litre of water before looking at herself in the mirror and remarking the dark circles under her eyes. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Kirk handed her a cup of coffee. "Strong and black? I just guessed." She accepted it almost gratefully and sipped it as she put on her running shoes.

"Kirk, I could almost learn to like you, if you'd just stop being such an ass."

"It is not in the nature of men to change for a woman, Melanie. Give a kiss to whoever you dream of at night for me, will you?"

"What?"

"I'm just saying you talk in your sleep. Not distinctly, don't worry."

She felt a cold sweat break out on her brow and quickly left the room. What an idiot she had been. Staying away from Spock didn't require alcohol, just a firm control over her own stupidity. As she exited the dormitory, she broke into a slow trot and tried to clear her mind. She focused on each foot as it made contact with the pavement, each breath as it entered and exited her body. After a few minutes, she felt more in control of herself and she picked up her pace.

* * *

Spock's hand was resting on the button of the comm-link. He had only to press it and he would be speaking to his betrothed, T'Pring, sixteen light years away. It might as well have been a million. He hadn't spoken to her in the seventeen years since their parents had arranged their bonding. Even as he approached maturity, he could not think of her as a lover, even as a friend. When he imagined her, it was as a child with calm, even features and cold, shining black eyes. Would she understand? He clicked the button and the link was initiated. There was no going back.

"_T'nar pak sorat y'rani_, Spock."

"_T'nar jaral_, T'Pring."

"I did not anticipate your contact. I would inquire as to the purpose of this transmission. Please relate."

"I wish to release you from our agreement, T'Pring. I know that it is not generally our custom to do so."

If it was possible for pleasure to show on the face of a fully-disciplined Vulcan, he imagined she would have smiled. "Your request is acceptable. While it was not my place to do so, I admit that I have my reasons for wanting to end our betrothal. Thank you for this unexpected action. May I inquire, why have you decided to do this?"

"I feel I cannot offer you the singular attentions that a spouse should expect from her husband. My . . . affections . . . have been taken by another, but I could not act on this until I came to an agreement with you. If I had known before that you would be receptive to my request, I would have done this earlier. Have you similar reasons to my own?"

"It would have shamed my family to admit it, but there is another with whom I would bond, with your approval. Stonn, the son of Stalek, is my mate of choice."

"I wish you peace and harmony with Stonn, T'Pring."

"May I know the name of the one who has taken my place, Spock?"

"She is a female human, Nyota Uhura."

"Then I wish you the same Spock. Live long and prosper."

"Dif-tor heh smusma."

She broke the comm-link connection and Spock felt as free as he ever had.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Spock was unused to worrying. There was a logical reason for Nyota's unexplained absence this morning. While classes were not in session, he fully expected for her to arrive at the usual time for office hours. Perhaps he had misread their last encounter, but there was enough evidence to postulate that she did, in fact, have a more than friendly desire for him. She had not been to his quarters since she returned from her parents' home and he had not seen her in the research facility. He had spent the morning in meditation, hoping to quell the distress he was feeling, but to no avail. Perhaps a walk on the campus would relieve his mind of its burden.

As he sealed the door to his quarters, he happened upon Christopher Pike in the corridor. "Good morning, Spock. How is the semester going for you?" His easy manner made Pike one of Spock's closer colleagues at the Academy. He was more involved in the officer training division than academics, but that suited Spock's sudden need to unburden himself. The two had become what humans would call friends during Spock's time at the Academy, and they had continued their pleasant camaraderie into his present position as teaching faculty.

"Chris, it is a pleasure to see you. My semester has been acceptable thus far. It has been some weeks since I have encountered you on campus. Have your duties been keeping you busy?"

"Not "duty," so much as family. My oldest daughter is graduated from secondary school and I went back to Mojave to spend a little dad-daughter time together. Well worth the trip, I have to say. I've missed so much of her childhood."

"Ah, a rite of passage very important to humans. It is pleasing to a child to have a parent join in celebrating this transition."

"Still haven't patched things up with your father, I gather?"

"No, though I have accepted his disappointment."

If you are not busy this morning, would you care to walk with me for a bit, Spock? I'm feeling like a bit of fresh air."

"It would be most acceptable. I was already considering the same course of action, as a matter of fact."

Pike took the path across campus that would lead them into Golden Gate Park, and Spock gratefully followed. It would be at least several hours before they returned to campus.

"Spock, I have to ask," Pike inquired, half an hour into their walk, "I haven't seen you around much. What I have noticed is a certain cadet frequenting your quarters." Spock was startled. This was technically his commanding officer, and his behavior had been questionable at best. Apparently their efforts to be inconspicuous had somehow failed. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna turn you in to the discipline committee. I'm just curious, that's all. She's the brightest cadet we've had on campus in years. Since you, in fact. I'm glad you found one another."

"We're friends, nothing more, Captain." He defaulted to rank, trying to somehow reassure Pike that he was still in control of his faculties.

"Chris, Spock. We're not on duty. I'm asking because I'm happy for you, want to congratulate you on your excellent choice of "'friends.'"

Spock let his guard down. "We are considering being more than just 'friends,' Chris. I am unsure if this is appropriate, and of how I should proceed."

"I don't know that I'm necessarily the best one to give advice, given the fact that I couldn't manage to make it work with the girls' mother for more than a handful of years, but I can tell you that I don't regret a moment of the time when I loved her. There's nothing better than knowing that, whatever happens, there's somebody at the other end of the shift, waiting to hold you and tell you she loves you."

"I'm afraid my lack of affect is pushing her away from me."

"If that were the case, she'd have walked away long ago. She's a determined young woman, and I have the impression she gets what she wants, no matter who's in her way. You should have seen her in the simulation training. I'd love to see her on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ when we ship out. Speaking of which, are you still sure that you don't want to pursue an academic career?"

"Quite, Chris. It has always been my intention to serve on the Enterprise under you and that has not changed. What has occupied my mind for some time now is the fact that Cadet Uhura will not terminate her studies until after our launch date."

"Who says she has to have her thesis done? Any member of the faculty would be willing to waive that requirement. She's already written the equivalent of a dozen theses, if you compare her work to the rest of the cadets."

"You would give her the recommendation?"

"It's the only logical conclusion, my friend. It's her choice, though. She's not the kind of girl who'd appreciate others meddling in her career, if you understand what I mean."

"Fully. It would be entirely against all regulations to give her a post that she did not merit wholly based on her performance.

"I would never suggest otherwise."

"You put my mind at ease. It is not often that a Vulcan indulges in 'worry.'"

"You're welcome. The announcement's set for tomorrow, but I'll let you know now: We ship out at the end of the month."

"I appreciate the notice, Captain."

"My pleasure, Commander."

"Spock?"

"Yes, Chris?

"Tell her you love her."

"Is that an order?"

"It's good advice."

"Understood."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Nyota scanned the room for a glimpse of his dark, cropped hair or pale skin. While she tried to look calm and composed, she was disconcerted. He rarely deviated from his usual schedule and had failed to meet her for office hours this first morning back from break. Furthermore, she had heard nothing all day from him. She had tried the department office, the mess, his quarters, the lecture hall . . . eventually she would find him, but he was evidently consciously avoiding her. She turned to leave and nearly stepped on his toes as she spun around. "Where have you been hiding?" she asked, in a clipped and agitated voice.

"I had not realized that I should report to you my location at all times, Cadet Uhura. Why don't we continue this conversation elsewhere?" Spock was not one for public scenes, and he feared that she just might be agitated enough to create one.

She followed him, making a small effort to keep up with his long strides as they crossed the quadrangle. He clearly wanted to find some privacy before they discussed anything. A pit in the bottom of her stomach indicated that she already knew what it might be.

As they entered the faculty dormitory, he purposefully ushered her ahead and through the door to his quarters, commanding it secure behind him. She dropped her bag on the floor and turned to face him, apprehension in her eyes and tenseness in her shoulders. He let his guard down and took her hand, pressing his fingers to hers in a sign of affection and openness. He couldn't lie and he couldn't put off telling her, as the sheer mental effort of avoiding the touch of her mind was tearing him apart.

"You have been avoiding me, Nyota. Why?"

"I didn't want to do anything stupid. You've been avoiding me. Why?"

"I am incapable of doing anything stupid, unless that description includes taking more time to assess a situation than is acceptable by human female standards." His attempt at humor was rewarded by eyes filling with tears.

"You've been assigned to active duty." She had heard the announcement of the completion of the _Enterprise_. Captain Pike had obliquely mentioned to her in his office hours that he would be pleased to have Spock as his second in command should he be given the bridge of the new flagship of the fleet. She had taken that as an indicator that he would receive word very soon. Pike somehow knew that they had become friends, and must have wanted to give her some time to adjust to the idea. She was still a full six months from commissioning and unlikely to be able to serve on the same ship with him, despite her desperate desire to be a communications officer aboard the _Enterprise_. And this was aside from any feelings she might have for Spock. She was good, and if it were not for this damned thesis that required a three-month stint on Orion, she would have had her choice of ships, including that beautiful bird. He raised his hand to touch hers. A mixture of jealousy, love, and despair assaulted Spock as their minds touched and joined in the embrace of friendship. "I don't know what to think. I'm happy for you, of course, but. . ."

"I could not expect you not to be disappointed, Nyota. I am not in a position to decide anything regarding your appointment now, but in two years, when the Enterprise returns from its first voyage, I would put in a strong recommendation for you to be posted as chief communications officer." He had to know, and she had to be the one to initiate the conversation.

"It's more than that, Spock. Of course I'm disappointed about not getting to ship out with the Enterprise, but it's about more than just the post." She looked purposefully into his eyes and dropped her voice. "I've fallen in love with you."

He had suspected as much, allowed himself to imagine the moment when she would broach the subject. He had even dared to release his betrothed, T'Pring, from their vows as he knew that he could never make this connection with another in good faith without giving her freedom from their childhood promise. He quailed now, seeing Nyota's distress. He was reminded of all the logical reasons why he should calmly pledge to send her a message via comm-link as often as possible and remind her of the promise he had made to be her friend, her _t'hy'la_ for a lifetime. They had become too close, become too much to each other than was seemly or practical for two people so committed to their careers in Starfleet. How had this happened? Would she feel that he had overstepped the bounds of their relationship?

She drew him closer, cool breath kissing his collar bone and sending a shiver of ecstasy down his spine. She was too close, but he couldn't push her away. His body was betraying him, momentum building to lose control and take what he wanted from her. He understood the reaction intellectually. He had studied both human physiology and Vulcan, insomuch as it is described in medical texts, and could ascribe the crescendo of endorphins and emotions she was provoking in him to a very banal expression of the desire to mate. This wasn't how he wanted it to be for her, or for himself for that matter.

"Wait, _k'diwa_. This is not acceptable. The first joining with one's bond-mate should not be in sorrow." He reached up to brush away the tears that had begun to spill down her smooth, brown cheeks and smiled at her both with his lips and his eyes. "I propose that we consider negotiating the boundaries of this particular situation."

"Spock, was that a marriage proposal?"

"Nyota, I have released T'Pring from our childhood vows. I am freely yours, should you desire it." He paused for several moments. "I love you, _k'diwa_."

He raised his warm hand to her chest and whispered quietly, "my heart to your heart. . ." She relaxed and smiled at him as he pressed his palm against her skin, feeling her heart beat quickly beneath. She returned the gesture. He had made the correct decision, and against all better judgment, she had come to the same, illogical conclusion.

"Perhaps something can be done about your thesis, Nyota. Would it not be logical to ask for a continuance, to be completed during your first posting aboard a starship? Where better to research the nuances in inter-species communication than in such a heterogeneous environment?"

"Do you think the committee would accept that rationale?"

"Though I must recuse myself from the selection process, the remainder of your committee would very likely find it permissible. You have expressed a desire to join the crew of the _Enterprise _on a number of occasions, I believe. I am aware of their high regard for your abilities as a communications officer."

"I will put in a request, then, first thing tomorrow. You were already thinking about this, weren't you?"

His expression turned slightly embarrassed, if she had to put a name to it. "You need not do so, as I have already requested the extension on your behalf. Captain Pike has agreed to specifically recommend that you receive a commission as his chief communications officer when the Enterprise embarks, provided you find this solution acceptable."

"If I weren't so happy right now, I'd be angry with you, Spock." She knit her brows together and he recognized the familiar expression his mother had so often worn in reaction to his childhood missteps.

"Anger is a highly illogical response to the current situation, if I understand correctly. In what way have I angered you?"

"You let me believe that you were leaving without me, that the _Enterprise_ was leaving without me. The two most important things in my life, gone in the firing of a warp drive!"

"Ah, _k'diwa_. I could not have accepted Captain Pike's commission willingly if it were not for your presence on the ship. The thought of being even ten light years from your presence was enough to convince me that there must be some other logical solution, a more satisfactory outcome for all parties. While I do feel that your thesis adds greatly to the body of knowledge on comparative Orion linguistics, I could not deprive the galaxy of an opportunity for you to analyze another dozen language groups over the next two years."

"So it wasn't purely selfish on your part?"

"Of course it was. The other reasons were developed wholly subsequent to my primary goal."

"Your primary goal was to have me weeping inconsolably in your personal quarters?"

"An entirely unintended consequence, but one that I find fascinating. . ." Just as he could see her face register mild shock, he added, "that one so aesthetically pleasing and accomplished as you might find me worthy of her attentions, of course."

"_K'diwa_," she tried out the word, rolling the inflected syllables carefully around her mouth, I believe that we have a simulation to attend to. Before we worry about the _Enterprise_, I think we need to deal with Kirk's second attempt at rescuing the _Kobyashi Maru_.


	9. Chapter 9

The blur of preparation swept Spock immediately into the role of assigning the newly field-promoted ensigns to the decks of the various ships. He had more than enough data to assign the cadets to posts, according to the available information in the database, but he hesitated when he arrived at Ensign Uhura. She had not completed the Officer Candidacy Examination, which would normally be a formality for a cadet of her caliber, but this placed her below another cadet in the computer-generated list assigned to the Enterprise. While he had the authority to make whatever substitutions were necessary to balance the fleet's resources, he could hardly base his decision on highly improper personal feelings. When she appeared, assigned to the _Farragut_ as the algorithm had suggested and as angry as she had ever been in his presence, he saw her elegantly composed posture, the fire in her eyes, and the confidence in her step and had second thoughts.

Lieutenant Morris was highly qualified to be assigned to the _Enterprise_, but there was no communications officer in the roster, with or without a personal attachment to him, who exceeded her abilities. It would be a disservice to the fleet to deny her the opportunity to serve on the _Enterprise_. He had used these arguments before, in an entirely different context and to different ends, but they remained true and logical. "I wished to avoid the appearance of favoritism," was his weak response to her hard glare. He had already reassigned her to the _Enterprise_ before she was done enumerating the reasons why he should do so.

"I am assigned to the _Enterprise_."

It was already a fact, and she stated it as such. It was the only logical conclusion. He could barely restrain a small smile as he confirmed the change. "Yes, I believe you are." Even if he had not cared for her as he did, he would have had to make the same decision given the available information. It would have been an illogical choice, based on flawed personal motives, if he had allowed her to ship out on the Farragut.

The triumph in her brisk "Thank you" was enough to assure him that she considered the conversation concluded. She would not reproach him for this. He felt the rush of blood to his ears and suddenly the seriousness of the situation was the sole focus of his consciousness. They were going on a mission, and duty must preclude all else.

* * *

Underway, with everyone as tense as she had ever seen them, Ensign Uhura (damn that test she ought to have gotten out of the way months ago!) scanned every frequency known to the Federation and kept an eye, and ear, out for anything. She occasionally glanced up at Spock, imagining his vexation at the small errors that were occurring on the bridge as the new officers acclimated to their posts. "Learning curve" was concept unknown to the Vulcans. Just as she had done during her tenure as his assistant, when she wanted to discuss something in private with him, she quietly asked for his opinion as the science officer on a "likely insignificant anomaly" she had picked up on a subspace frequency. He quietly responded that he would like a debriefing immediately following her shift, his eyes meeting hers in a plea for more than just a few moments alone together.

He was feeling the stress, she understood. He would never show it in front of anyone else, but she could faintly feel the tension in his mind. Was that what it was like to be bonded? Each would know the other's thoughts, no matter how far apart they might be. She had already experienced a little of this when they were apart during her leave, but she imagined that the feelings would be but a ghost of those two fully bonded mates experienced.

Uhura ceded the communications console to her second, a classmate of hers in a number of linguistics courses who performed admirably in simulation training. It was rare that she felt she could trust others to take the job as seriously as she, herself, did. The other side of an adrenaline rush was hell, however, and she needed an hour or three away to recharge. Spock took notice of her shift's end and turned his post over as well, briefly making eye contact with Captain Pike and receiving an approving nod. Both of them had pulled double duty today, for good reason, and while Spock could make do with considerably less rest, he knew that Nyota would not be able to sleep until they finished the conversation that they had begun.

Before the lift door could close, Spock slipped in and they descended to the crew deck. He followed her to her quarters, arms locked behind his back as if he were on his way elsewhere on the ship. Only once the portal had closed and she had commanded it to secure did he allow her to grasp his hand and draw him toward her.

"We were discussing something, before we were interrupted, and I wish to continue that conversation, if you are in agreement," Spock stated simply. Eyes filled with emotion, she brought her face closer to his. He sank to his knees on the floor. He believed that this was customary in some Earth communities, and at least it gave her the physical advantage in what, in many cultures, was a conversation dictated by the males of the species. She must make the decision, as Pike had advised.

"Among my people, it is customary to ask for my consent three times. You have asked me twice and I have agreed twice."

"Just as friendship lasts a lifetime, so does the bonding, Nyota. Even if we part, we will always be connected in some way. I will understand if you wish to wait until you possess more information before making this choice."

"I choose a lifetime with you, Spock. I give you myself freely and without reservation." Those were the human words she ought to say. In Vulcan, she added, "Let our be minds and thoughts be one." She slipped to the floor to kneel before him.

"My heart to your heart," he smiled, touching her chest and placing her hand over his own abdomen. This brought forth a soft peal of laughter from Nyota and she leaned in to kiss him. There was no formula that was right for them, but perhaps improvisation would be the most delightful part of their relationship. Whereas he had always been focused on making the logical decision, she had shown him that it was acceptable to allow for a few intangible, affective variables.

She brought her free hand to his brow, softly tracing the line of his hair as they knelt together, silently now. He returned the gesture, placing his hand over the pulsing at her temple, and they remained so, looking into each other's eyes until Spock felt their consciousness touch.

He pressed more firmly against her face, establishing the connection that only death would sever.


End file.
